


all the fears and all the faults you've left behind

by WhatsATerrarium



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hostage Situations, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Self-Harm Under Mind Control, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24696277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium
Summary: "You seem to be recovering well, Damien.” He hesitates only for a second, shuts down only for a second,lets himself be afraidonly for a second. “Are you feeling like yourself?”“You mean, can I use my ability? Well, why don’t you take these cuffs off me, Agent, and we’ll find out?”---OR: A very different ending to s4 e2.
Relationships: Damien (The Bright Sessions) & Owen Thompson | Agent Green, Owen Thompson | Agent Green & Ellie Wadsworth
Kudos: 25
Collections: Owen Green





	1. tremble for yourself, my man

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons.

“Are you sure this is wise, Director?”

“He can’t harm you,” Ellie responds. She’s looking not at him, but down at the clipboard in her hands, flipping through it almost boredly. “If anything goes wrong, I will come in and remove you. But we need to confirm that his brain injury is recovered enough to use his ability.”

“He seems very well recovered from where I’m standing.” He tries to sound calm, but the hints of fear in his voice are starting to seep through the cracks, and his tongue is subconsciously blurring his tone into something like defiance in hope that it’ll be heard, not preyed upon like he’s come to learn fear is at The AM.

“I know that, Green, but this isn’t a normal patient with a normal brain.”

“Yeah, well, not according to the recent brain scans.”

“Exactly.” She tucks her clipboard by her side and looks up at him so quickly and with such intensity that it takes him off guard. It shouldn’t still take him off guard. “And isn’t that suspicious?”

“I’m sorry?” If she hears the fear, she doesn’t comment on it. He’s at least grateful for that.

“His brain scans have been, as you say, completely normal. Now that the swelling has gone down he’s recovered like any other human. Albeit, much faster and more completely than usual, but normal nonetheless.” 

He understands the point she’s trying to make, but it still takes a second for it to be driven home. “You think something’s happened with his ability.”

“I think it’s a distinct possibility. And there’s one way to find out.” She looks him in the eyes and he feels himself momentarily shut down.

He doesn’t ask why it has to be him. He’s not sure if he wants to know. He wants to believe, somewhere deep down, that it’s because she trusts him. That it’s because because beneath the layers of hostility built up over the years, they’re still friends, and they’re still in it together. They have to be in it together, at least, he has to believe that they are. Because as difficult as their relationship may be, if he doesn’t have her he doesn’t have anyone, and he’s not sure he can handle having to admit that he’s alone.

“Fine.” The look she gives him isn’t a smile, it’s the little sliver of something genuine that he’s been seeing in place of a real smile for a long time. It’s like she’s rationing out her emotions, letting a little bit slip through the cracks every time she needs it to seem like she cares. He knows that this isn’t for any good reason. He knows it’s just the latest in a long line of punishments being dished out for trying to regrow his spine and stop her from  _ hurting people. _

It doesn’t matter, though. Because she’s right (isn’t she always?).

There is a possibility that something could have happened with Damien’s ability, and there really is only one way to test that out. They owe it to Damien to treat him like an actual patient and not a prisoner.

And while he’s scared, the worst case scenario is only that he gets hurt. So what if he gets hurt? Better him than anyone else.

He opens the door and takes a deep breath.

Besides, if anything does happen to him, he’ll probably deserve it.

The door closes behind him.

“How are you today, Damien?” He tries to sound as calm and polite as possible, which isn’t hard, hell, it’s second nature at this point.

The hard part is trying not to let Damien’s voice or his glare send shivers down his spine. “You’re not the person who usually asks me that. Where’s Wadsworth?”

“Otherwise occupied,” he responds, the happy tone in his voice wavering a little.

“So she sent you? While I’m awake?” Damien furrows his brow suspiciously and Owen wonders how deeply Damien has to bury  _ his _ fear.

“Yes.”

“So this is what she meant by next stage, isn’t it?”

He veers the subject back on course quickly, and it’s only partially because he truly doesn’t know what Wadsworth meant by that. He doesn’t want to get sucked into a mind game by either of them. “You seem to be recovering well, Damien.” He hesitates only for a second, shuts down only for a second,  _ lets himself be afraid _ only for a second. “Are you feeling like yourself?”

“You mean, can I use my ability? Well, why don’t you take these cuffs off me, Agent, and we’ll find out?”

He braces himself for the feeling of Damien’s brain reaching out to his. For the feeling of having a thought, a  _ want _ forced into his head. Prepares himself to feel manipulated, influenced, controlled.

He doesn’t feel any of that.

“Okay.”

All he feels is what he wants.

He really doesn’t want Damien to be uncomfortable, and he  _ certainly _ doesn’t want to keep him here.


	2. there's nothing but pain on the edge of a knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Eat You Alive" by The Oh Hellos.

He moves towards Damien to help free him from his restraints and the door opens quickly. Ellie comes rushing through it, trying to seem collected and in control. Damien’s eyes dart to a table on the other side of the room where a tray of medical equipment lies. One of the doctors must have left it.

Wadsworth barely seems to track Damien’s gaze before Owen practically flings himself towards it.

The world blurs just a little, he’s still dizzy from the sudden movement and he’s not exactly in full control of his senses, and he hears Ellie let out a cry. She’s scared, why is she scared, what’s—

He tries to take inventory. He’d whipped around to face her and is now standing still. There’s something pressing against his throat, it’s—

Ah.

It’s a scalpel.

And he’s holding it.

He watches Ellie take a deep breath, the fear in her eyes dissipating just a little realizing Damien hasn’t made him do anything  _ yet. _ He has to squint out of the corner of his eyes to see Damien, but from the looks of it, Damien is afraid too.

“It’s fine,” he breaths carefully, trying to reassure Ellie and hopefully calm down Damien, the cold, sharp blade of the scalpel still pressing uncomfortably against his skin. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not  _ fine _ ,” Damien hisses defensively. “If you don’t let me out of here right now, he’s gonna slit his fucking throat.”

Wadsworth takes a breath, recollects herself, and sighs. Owen swears he can actually see her physically swallowing her metaphorical pride. “Okay.” She takes a careful step closer to Damien and begins explaining her movements. “I’m going to come over to you and I’m going to take off your handcuffs so that we can talk through this. I strongly advise you not to do anything rash.”

“No,” he responds, the aggression in his voice cracking ever so slightly to reveal the uncertainty and panic that lies beneath it. “No,  _ you _ don’t come near me. Give him the key.”

She glances his way and pulls the keys from his pocket. She holds them up for Damien to see and slowly crosses over to Owen. He takes the keys from her with his free hand and hopes that she won’t go back to where she was standing. The amount of safety her presence makes him feel is small, but the blade is just barely digging into his skin and he’s not going to be picky with his comforts.

Except that he doesn’t want to stay near her. He wants to go let Damien out of his cuffs, so he does exactly that.

Thankfully, Damien lets him move the scalpel away from his neck slightly, so as to not accidentally nick himself with it when he moves. It takes him a few seconds to get the key in the hole right, especially given he’s working with only one hand free, but eventually, Damien is standing up from the bed and stretching his arms.

“Okay, you’re no longer restrained. Let him go and we can discuss your release.”

“Don’t think I’m that stupid, he’s not putting that thing down until I’m out of the building.”

“Listen, Robert—”

“ _ Don’t _ fucking call me that.” Owen sees a flare of rage in Damien’s eyes and before he has time to try to butt in and deescalate the situation, another urge pushes its way into his head so quickly that he can barely process it. He wants to hurt himself.

He brings the scalpel down near his arm and slashes near his shoulder with it so quickly he barely registers the sting until after. After, it hurts like hell. The blood is spreading through the fabric of his shirt, the cut is burning, and he can’t do anything about it because his uninjured arm has gone right back to holding the now blood-covered scalpel at his throat.

“I’m not fucking joking around, okay?”

Ellie exhales angrily, and for a second he thinks he can see the panic and regret written across her face. “You said you want to leave. Leave. There’s nothing stopping you.”

“He’s coming with me.”

“He’s  _ bleeding. _ ”

“Too bad.”   
  
Ellie opens her mouth to argue and before she can get anything out, Owen speaks up for what he’s just realizing is the first time in this conversation.

“Ellie. It’s fine. I’ll… I can go with him. I’ll be alright.”   
  
She stares at him for a minute, before turning to face Damien. “And how do I know you’re not making him say that?”

“I’m not,” Damien hisses back.

“Either way, he’s not leaving.”

  
“You know what?  _ Fine. _ ” Damien steps closer to her, staring her down intensely, or at least, trying to despite the fact that he’s several inches shorter than her. “He’s not leaving and neither am I. I’m getting what I wanted in the first place. Give me the fucking immunity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Sorry Owen. Also, it's Ian Mcquown's birthday so hurting his character is my present, actually.


	3. i won't let you choke (on the noose around your neck)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons.

“Give me the fucking immunity.”

She can’t do that. She knows she can’t do that. Without other abilities to keep him in check, who knows how dangerous Damien could become.

“R—  _ Damien. _ ” She corrects herself quickly. “I can’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not?”   
  
“I don’t have any ready on hand. More would need to be developed.”

“Well then fucking develop some.”

She glances towards Owen. His body looks as though it’s fighting with itself, trying not to tremble or wince in pain from the cut that’s soaking a portion of his sleeve in blood. He’s trying to stand tall, trying to seem fine despite the growing stain on his shirt and the scalpel still pressed up against his jugular.

“It takes time.” She’s stalling. But luckily, Damien’s limited knowledge of the serum is a big help. “It could take days.”   
  
“Well you don’t have days, do you?”

“I really don’t see what you expect me to do here.”   
  
“Well,  _ director _ , I  _ expect you _ to go back into whatever secret lab you’ve got in here, bring in all your best evil scientists, and get me an immunity serum as soon as fucking possible.”   
  
“And as I said, that could take a while,” she responds through her teeth.

“Well then let’s make it fucking interesting. For every  _ hour _ that I’m not immune, something bad happens to our friend over here. Got it?”

“And what do you plan to do with this immunity, Damien?”   
  
“Why the fuck should I tell you?”

Ellie grits her teeth and tries to refrain from visibly shooting him a death glare. The immunity could allow Damien to manipulate Mark without any repercussions like the last time. It’d allow him to be around and possibly harm that whole group. If Damien didn’t fear Mark messing up his ability, he could try to seek forgiveness, or worse,  _ revenge _ for everyone involved in the incident at the safehouse. And while she’d prefer no one get hurt to begin with, she’s absolutely not about to allow Adam or Joan to be put in danger. So she’s going to have to find a way to contain Damien without risking Owen being hurt again.

“You can already bend the majority of the world to your will, and you're already immune to mind reading. Tell me, Damien, what are you afraid of?  _ Empaths  _ knowing when you’re in a bad mood?”

He sees right through her attempts to distract from his demands. He practically ignores her, instead turning to Owen. “Give me your arm.”   
  
Owen holds his arm out wordlessly and without even shooting a glance her way, Damien removes his watch and loudly proclaims: “First hour starts... now.” He pockets Owen’s watch and turns back to smirk at Wadsworth. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“Ellie,” Owen speaks up quietly. “Don’t give it to him. We have no way of knowing how his body will react to it.”

“Or what he’ll do with it,” she reminds him.

“I’m willing to take my chances, and what I’ll do is none of your fucking business,” Damien cuts in. “So go do whatever the fuck you need to do, and remember that you’re on the fucking clock.”

“Please, Ellie, don’t.”

She takes a short breath, taking a moment to decide between the part of her that wants to reassure Owen she has no plans to give in and the part that wants to delude Damien. Fortunately, the choice doesn’t even need to be made.

“Shut  _ up, _ ” Damien growls, and rather than just closing his mouth, Owen seems to practically shut down.

“I’m not going to give you anything until you can tell me why you need it.”

“Fine. You know what? Forget the fucking clock.”   
  
She doesn’t let herself look away no matter how badly she wants to. She can’t show any weakness. So she watches, not blinking once, as Owen cuts himself again. It’s a small cut along his side, and even though she knows he’s under Damien’s control, it almost alarms her what little effort he makes to hesitate or resist.

“Here are the rules. You try to lock me up again? He dies. You don’t do exactly what I say when I say it? He gets hurt.”

She stands up straighter than before. She grits her teeth. She looks him in the eye. “Okay. Fine. I’ll get working on the serum.”

She has no intention of giving it to him. At least, not now. But she doesn need to make an effort to appease him. If it were anyone else holding the knife, she’d trust in her abilities to talk Damien down and deal with him more, but this is Owen who’s in danger. Owen who barely thinks twice when given an order even if he’s not being controlled. Owen who’s had some sort of martyr complex for as long as she can remember. Owen who’s already given up his entire life in every sense but the literal one for this organization. She’s not going to take a risk with his life or his safety because, at this point, she’s not sure he even has a concept of either of those things.

She’s going to play along with Damien’s game for now. She’s going to do what she has to do to keep him safe. To keep everyone safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marcus says this chapter is good but I don't believe him, so please attack him if you didn't like it.


	4. if i leave it does not stop here, no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from “Me and My Friends Are Lonely” by Matt Maeson.

He knows it has to happen, but there’s a dread that settles across the room when Wadsworth exits it, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone with Damien. Thankfully, though, Damien once again allows him to relax the arm holding the scalpel. He tests the control he’s under, discovering that this time, he lets him hang his arm limply at his side.

When he realizes he’s capable of sitting down too, his heart skips a beat and for a second, he wonders if Damien’s stopped controlling him altogether. He considers testing Damien’s control by trying to set the scalpel down, but… no. He doesn’t want to do that.

Never mind, then.

It’s fascinating, Damien’s ability. And he seems to be using it exceptionally well for someone who’s been injured and out of practice for so long.

“Your ability, it’s… impressive,” he mutters.

“Shut up,” Damien responds. “Stop trying to patronize me, I’m not letting you go.”   
  


“I’m not… I’m not trying to patronize you, I don’t… you don’t have to let me go. I just think it’s impressive. It’s… your control is a lot better than I expected it to be after being out of practice for so long. Is it not… difficult to use?”

Damien sighs, sitting back down on his bed and apparently conceding to the offer of conversation. “It’s not like it’s something I have to consciously use. I mean, sure I’ve got to kind of… think about wanting something sometimes, but mostly it’s just sort of… there. It doesn’t take energy to use it, it— it’s not like I’m making a conscious decision to want something or to want you to want something.” The way he’s speaking is reluctant at first, but almost grows into more of a vent. He sounds almost agitated, as though he’s trying to release his frustration through talking.

How ironic, he thinks to himself. From what little he knows about Damien’s sessions with Joan, he’d never opened up to her much at all.

Maybe Damien can only have a conversation with people when he’s placed himself in a position of power. When he’s in control. And even with Damien’s ability, Owen’s sure that Joan isn’t quick to allow herself to be controlled, nor should she be. Joan is smart, Joan knows what she’s doing.

Owen doesn’t know what he’s doing, and so he’s perfectly fine with allowing other people to control him. He’s not going to be able to solve a situation better than anyone else, hell, he’d probably be worse at it.

He’s useless unless he’s following orders. The best he can do in any situation is stay quiet and do what he’s told. Allowing himself to be controlled is practically second nature.

“Most of the time when I’m making people do stuff it’s not even intentional, I just  _ want stuff. _ And then I get what I want.”

Owen sees something bitter flicker in Damien’s eyes. He can tell he’s going to get what he wants.

“Can I ask what it is you want now?”

“Jesus, Green, have you not been fucking listening—?”

“No, the immunity, I- I know, I just— What  _ are _ you going to use it for?” He tries to make his voice gentle, tries to make himself sound  _ weak, _ because he knows that’s what Damien will listen to.

Damien stares at him for a second, as though he’s trying to figure him out, before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Mark. I want to talk to Mark without… any  _ complications.” _

“What about the complications of your ability?” Owen asks, his curiosity and his fear for Joan and her friend group slowly overtaking him as, against his better judgement, he tries to reason. “Wouldn’t you rather learn how to get your ability under control first? Be able to talk to Mark without anything getting in the way? Damien, I could he—“

_ “Shut up,” _ Damien snarls, and despite only being halfway through his sentence, Owen has absolutely no desire to continue speaking. “My ability is not a complication, got that?”

Owen nods a little and remains silent, any thought of voicing his questions or concerns quickly pushed out of his head by the desire to keep his mouth shut and leave Damien alone.

The room remains dead silent and Owen remains still as Damien paces back and forth past him for several minutes. It takes a minute for him to even realize that he doesn’t want to think about anything. The thoughts that he’s been starting to form in his head are all forced out, almost painfully quickly, just as he begins to have them.

He can’t even bring himself to dwell on the concept of not thinking. Though apparently, he doesn’t have time to. Because after minutes of pacing impatiently, Damien approaches the door of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Where the hell is Wadsworth? I want a  _ progress report.” _

**Author's Note:**

> So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: whats_a_terrarium  
> Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251  
> Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium  
> Twitter: whatsaterrarium
> 
> If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)


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